


A Perfect Pie

by Annibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annibal/pseuds/Annibal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal teaches Will how to bake apple pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfect Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Sixth of the 12 days.

Will never really celebrated Christmas, he didn’t have any family left and since he was a bachelor he hadn’t really made his own family besides his dogs. His empathy made friendships difficult so he normally just ignored the holiday, only on occasion would he up a special pick up a present for the dogs. 

This year was different though, he felt close to people. Will even found himself yearning to show it somehow. It didn’t take long to decide on making a nice dinner for his friends. Nothing overly fancy, but he could use fresh caught fish and with the help of the internet he planned on baking a nice apple pie. 

Or so he had thought. It turned out to be much harder than he would have ever imagined. The first one turned out with the crust tough and the apples still mostly crisp. Since it was the morning, this didn’t worry him, he started again carefully. This time he made sure to read through the recipe for each step, making sure not to miss anything. Although the apples were a little more cooked, the crust was soggy. 

Will was starting to get anxious, the time was getting low, and he would have to go out and go shopping for apples and lard again. He didn’t really want to ask for help but he found himself picking up the phone and dialing Hannibal. The other man quickly calmed his frayed nerves, and offered to come over. 

He had just finished peeling the apples when he heard the knock on his door. The thought of someone there to help was calming, it wouldn’t even if Hannibal just read the recipe out to him, and his presence was enough. He trusted that with Hannibal’s help that nothing would go horribly wrong. 

“Come in.”

Will shouted through the house, the knife slicing through the apples to core them. 

“Good evening Will.”

Hannibal stood in the doorway of the kitchen; he wore a full black and grey plaid suit, his arms full of a cloth bag. 

“What have you got there?” 

“I was unsure of what you owned, so I brought a few of my own supplies.”

Hannibal set the bag down on the counter and started to take off his suit jacket, even taking the time remove his vest before placing them over a chair. He was left in only his dress pants and maroon shirt which brought out of colour of his eyes.

Will couldn’t help himself and he watched as Hannibal pulled out a white waist apron and put it on. The shirt was fitted well and as he rolled up the sleeves carefully to expose his forearms Will thought he looked well dressed. Even washing his hands Hannibal was put together and calm. 

“I hope you don’t mind coming early.” 

“Not at all Will, I had no plans for today except for dinner here.”

He went back to coring the apples, not bothering to slice them yet.

“Have you started on the dough?” 

Will shook his head; he hadn’t wanted to risk ruining anything before Hannibal arrived. 

“Why don’t you work on it with me Will, it will be a good learning experience.” 

It wasn’t really something he wanted to learn, but he supposed that if he were ever to throw another dinner it would be a good idea to find out now. Will put the knife and apple down into the bowl he was working over before turning to face Hannibal. 

“What would you like me to do?” 

“Bring me the dry ingredients and your measuring utensils.”

While Will pulled them out of the drying rack, Hannibal went through his cupboards to find a bowl. 

“On the left of the sink.”

Even in the small kitchen they moved around each other perfectly, neither of them getting in the way as they started putting the ingredients in the bowl. He let Hannibal do most of the measure, listening to him explaining the reason for the order of which the crust was put together. 

He had gotten lost in the sound of his voice and the explanation and it took him a second to realise that Hannibal was asking for the lard. Will couldn’t explain the flush on his cheeks as he grabbed it out of the fridge, but he acted as if nothing was different, knowing that Hannibal would ignore it out of politeness.

“Where is your pastry blender.”

“What is a pastry blender?”

“For mixing the dry ingredients with the lard, what did you use before?”

“I just used my blender. It worked well enough.”  
Will wasn’t going to tell him that he would probably be clearing lard out of the blades for the next week.

“No matter we can use two knives just as well.”

Will stood out of the way and allowed Hannibal to pick them out. 

“Take the knives Will, I will show you how to cut in the lard.”

It felt strange standing so close, there was no personal space between them. As he started the first few clumsy cuts Hannibal slipped his arms around him, placing his hands over his own to guide his movements. He could swear that Hannibal stayed longer than needed his soft hands almost caressing his when they pulled away. Hannibal stayed close, looking over his shoulder while he continued and Will found himself getting slightly flustered at his attentiveness. 

Hannibal waited for a moment, collecting the rest of the wet ingredients and adding them as he continued to cut the dough. 

“You may stop now, you would not want to over mix the dough. If you do it won’t be properly flaky.”

Will wasn’t going to say anything about the fact that he didn’t know you could even over mix it. That had probably been part of the problem with one of his first attempts. He stored it away; it would be useful if he ever tried this again.

“Place it in the fridge with cling film over it. I will help you slice and prepare the apples while it cools.”

Hannibal turned on his oven and rewashed his hands as Will put it away, and he could hear him going through his knives until he found one he was contented with. Will joined him in front of the apples, watching for how thick Hannibal sliced each one and followed suit. 

They managed to get through the bowl in a matter of minutes, Hannibal much more skilled than he was. Hannibal’s slices were carefully done, but there wasn’t much visual difference between the two. 

Will started getting out everything Hannibal told him they would need for the filling, setting it beside the bowl. He was feeling much better than his morning, Hannibals calm was infectious. It was nice to have someone so steady beside him to gently teach him how to bake.

“I will add the ingredients while you stir the apples.” 

Will started stirring hoping that Hannibal didn’t notice that his hands were shaking from the close proximity. It was only once he got to the cinnamon that they paused.

“I apologise, I am unable to open it.”

“It doesn’t open anymore, you just have to sort of shake it.” 

“Will it may be better if-”

Hannibal stopped talking when Will the squeezed the tin and cinnamon puffed out over Hannibal’s shirt. 

“Aw hell. Sorry. I can lend you a shirt, it won’t be this nice but it’ll do.”

Will grabbed at a dish towel rubbing at it and only seeming to rub it in more. Hannibal’s hands covered his own, holding them still. He leaned forward invading Wills personal space, Will stood frozen like deer in headlights waiting for the car to hit. Hannibal’s forehead rested against his own before he took his lips.

Hannibal’s first touch was soft, his tongue licking gently between his lips as if to ask permission. It was only when he opened to the kiss that Hannibal really started to taste him. Will felt helpless to do anything, but enjoy Hannibal's flavour and the feeling of their tongues sliding over each other. He had never realised how comfortable it was to kiss someone of a similar height. 

It wasn’t until Hannibal pulled back that he thought of what they were doing. He was proud that his face didn’t flush anymore, but he couldn’t find a single word.

“It’s alright Will, but I may take you up on your offer once we finish.” 

Together they managed to get the cinnamon in the rest of the way, but the mood had changed. Hannibal kept touching him more than needed and purposely trying to catch his gaze.

“Why don’t we finish up that dough?”

Will used it as an excuse not to look at Hannibal while he got it out of the fridge and set the cooled dough on the counter. Hannibal took half of it, setting it on the floured counter. 

“Your rolling pin?” 

Will had just used an empty wine bottle before and he placed it beside the dough. 

“I had to improvise.”

“Go ahead.”

Will started to pound the dough flat so that he could roll it so that it was only slightly lumpy. 

“Allow me to help you.” 

He didn’t really see what he was doing wrong and he just replied with a weak okay.

Like before when Hannibal had showed him how to cut the dough he wrapped his arms around him, but this time his body was pressed tight against his own. Hannibal placed his hands over his rolling the dough with him, working it until it was perfectly even. He could feel his own heart beating hard as he tried to calm himself. His mind was far too concentrated on the body moving against him, and not enough on what they were doing. 

Hannibal didn’t move from behind him as he folded the dough and moved it into the tin, forcing him to bend over the counter. He felt as kiss on his neck before he was able to stand again. 

Hannibal helped again with the second one, often playfully kissing his cheek and forcing smiles out of him. 

When Hannibal finished and pulled away from him he found himself mourning the loss. He watched Hannibal select a knife and stayed close, still unsure about what happened before. He was content to watch Hannibal cutting small almonds of the flattened dough, using a tooth pick to add vanes to make small leaves. Will didn’t bother to offer to help after he had poured the filling on top of the crust; there was no way that he would be able to make the shapes so even. Instead he put his hand on Hannibal’s upper arm, touching him lightly before awkwardly taking his hand back. 

Hannibal gave him a soft smile before looking back at his task.

“I don’t mind Will. I rather enjoy your touch.”

Will swallowed down his nerves before replacing it on Hannibal's shoulder and carefully leaning on him. It allowed him to watch over his shoulder as Hannibal started to place the leaves in a spiral until they completely covered the filling. 

“Please place it in the oven.” 

He obeyed, putting it in and setting the timer on top of it. Now that they had finished Will wasn’t sure what to say. He only knew that he wanted to kiss him again.

“I guess we have a bit of time before it’s ready. Why don’t I get you that shirt?” 

Will took Hannibal’s hand and let him to his dresser. He only let go as he dug through trying to find his nicer work shirts before deciding on a blue plaid one. 

When he turned Hannibal had undone his tie and was working on the buttons. There was an intensity with the way that Hannibal watched him so Will took a step closer, the shirt falling out of his hands forgotten. 

Will put a hand to Hannibal’s bare chest and guided him backwards until the back of his legs hit his bed. They looked at each other for a few breaths before Hannibal pulled him down onto the bed. Will buried his fingers in Hannibal chest hair, his eyes roaming over the shape of Hannibal’s lips before they kissed. 

This time he pressed his lips to Hannibal’s, pleased when Hannibal only encouraged him. After Hannibal slipped an arm around his back he moaned into his mouth. He adored how Hannibal took control of him, loving how Hannibal harshly sucked on his tongue. 

He could think of worse ways to spend the time waiting for the pie to bake.

**Author's Note:**

> We are half done guys!


End file.
